


Wanna Be Your Dog- Belly Rub

by AnnetheCatDetective



Category: Deep Cover (1992)
Genre: Dubious Consent, Dubious Ethics wrt BDSM, Dubious Morality, M/M, Master/Pet, Puppy Play, Repression, dubious everything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-08-08 21:00:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16436687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnetheCatDetective/pseuds/AnnetheCatDetective
Summary: Yeah... I had to come back to these awful, fucked up boys.





	Wanna Be Your Dog- Belly Rub

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DictionaryWrites](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/gifts), [mitzvahmelting](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mitzvahmelting/gifts).



    He normally doesn’t feel like this, he really doesn’t.

 

    Well, sometimes.

 

    He feels antsy a lot, he feels rough, sure, he feels… he feels a lot of things, too many things, even, he feels stuff, but he doesn’t…

 

    John tells him things will go back to normal and until then, David doesn’t mind that they’re not, he really doesn’t. Misses his girl, but his family is safe and he at least trusts that she’s happy visiting grandma, and his wife knows not to come back until he tells her it’s safe, that part is all fine, everything is…

 

    Everything is _fine_ except for the part where John thinks he needs to clean up and dry out, thinks they need to, and David agrees there’s a fucking time to be sober and John needs to know when and where the lines are and all, but David knows where the lines are, David can handle himself, and he resents John talking about it like he’s some messy street dealer getting high off his own supply and losing control and getting his ass shot, just because he--

 

    Okay, but it was different because he was sober then, it’s not the same thing at _all_ , it’s different, he’s different, he’s _fine_. Nothing they couldn’t fix and he’s _fine_.

 

    He’d tell John where he could stick it except then he says ‘you want to be a good boy, don’t you’, he says ‘be a good boy, David’, he says ‘don’t you want to make me happy’, and fuck him, but David does. David wants John to be happy with him, he wants to be a good boy, wants John to tell him as much. He just hates this, that’s all.

 

    He’s not a junkie. It’s not that getting sober is hard. He likes coke but it wasn’t hard to get clean, it’s the fucking imposition of it, of John deciding he knows what’s best for David, not just with all the safety stuff he’s thought about or even the dog thing, but with coke, David’s known coke a hell of a lot longer than John has. He knows what he’s doing with it. And there’s a difference between John saying ‘look, man, I can’t do this stuff and you can’t do it around me because I need to stay sharp until I know we’re safe’ and John saying ‘look, man, you’re a fucking danger to yourself and others so get off the stuff now and stay off it’, and David’s _not_. David’s _fine_.

 

    He resents him sometimes, but he…

 

    But then…

 

    He gets so upset and then he looks at him and everything…

 

    It’s simpler when he’s a dog.

 

    He doesn’t have so many complicated feelings, he doesn’t get mad, he doesn’t worry about half of what he worries about when he’s not, he…

 

    He gets to look at John and he gets to want to make him happy. And John could do anything to him and he could crawl back and it wouldn’t be, it wouldn’t be because he’s some kind of sad homo with no dignity, it wouldn’t be pathetic, it would be right. It would be his place and it would be right and no one could tell him he was… no one could act like that was… It would be his place, it would be right.

 

    John had said his head would get clearer once he was off the coke, but he knows it’s out of his system, there’s no physical cravings, and his head’s not clear. Human David doesn’t know what he’s doing if John doesn’t tell him. Didn’t he know what he was doing once? Wasn’t he sharp before they met? Hell, he was smart then. He was careful.

 

    He doesn’t know what he is now. Unless he’s John’s dog.

 

    David hasn’t been back in his crate since John brought that thing home and put it there. Since the night where… all of that happened. Not on his own, and John hasn’t forced him into it. Still treats him like a dog mostly, but he hasn’t put him back in the crate-- when David resisted going back after that night, John allowed it, and there were rules he had to follow but if he followed them, John didn’t put him in the crate.

 

    Sometimes he looks at it, and he thinks about the fact that it really did happen that way, but he tries not to let himself dwell on it. Sometimes he thinks about how it felt, the echoes of shame stirring in his belly, and he-- No. Sometimes he thinks about how it felt and he feels ashamed and disgusted, that’s right, disgusted, it was disgusting, John was, John was-- No. Not that, either. It was disgusting, it was wrong, but it was a mistake, they’re pretending it didn’t happen that way because it was a mistake, and John isn’t disgusting, John is…

 

    John is…

 

    John had put him in his place, that was all. John put him in his place, it wasn’t… John still never asks David to touch him, it wasn’t like that, and there was nothing sexual, nothing about the… the thing, he enjoyed, he didn’t hate, but it wasn’t sex, he didn’t…

 

    He just needs to prove to himself that it’s nothing, that’s all. He just needs to prove that it’s got nothing to do with sex.

 

    John doesn’t ask him anymore, hasn’t since that last time, the wildest thing he’s ever done. But he guesses now he has an answer. He just has to show them both that it wasn’t really like that. That it was all a fluke, it wasn’t really, it wasn’t real, it wasn’t like that, but he can prove it, he can prove it and then things will be normal. He just needs to prove he doesn’t like it because he wants to suck cock, that he isn’t turned on by it.

 

    He strips in the bathroom, drops his clothes into the white wicker laundry hamper. He feels self-conscious walking naked through the empty apartment, but he would feel weird leaving his clothes on the floor outside the crate, or being in the crate dressed. John would have something to say about it, if he just left his clothes on the floor, likes the place neat, and… and he’d say it was because David was desperate, if he couldn’t even put his clothes where they belonged…

 

    He closes himself into the crate, curls himself into his spot there. Dog. He’s a dog now, John’s dog, that’s all he is. He’s safe in his crate, nothing bad can happen, he’s John’s dog and John will take care of him, wants to take care of him. John only wants to take care of him, and John understands things. And if he’s here in his crate, everything will be fine, it’s fine.

 

    That’s what John had said, that all David had to do was let him take care of things. He’d said it the first time after Felix, after Betty left them and he told him not to touch her, and David wasn’t his dog then, but… but then John had called him up into the front seat with his voice all soft, so different from how stern he’d been, how he’d said he’d put David down if he hurt her, and David had been flying too high on killing Felix to really be hurt at the thought of John choosing her over him, though he hadn’t liked it, he hadn’t liked the idea that John would pick Betty if it came down to it when David was his _partner_ , but it couldn’t pierce the high of the night, and… and…

 

    So many things could have happened that night and not bothered him, that might have bothered him any other time. So when John called him up into the front seat, he went, and when John’s hand wrapped around the back of his neck, he had relaxed under it. Not that he was thinking anything was going to happen, not that he imagined John using that hand to urge him down, of course it wouldn’t be like that, parked out there, he wouldn’t… John wouldn’t have made David suck him, or, David didn’t think that and if it had happened he only would have let it because he was out of it and in a good mood and-- Not because he’s like that, because he ever wanted…

 

    But he hadn’t, anyway, of course he hadn’t, he was never going to, that, he hadn’t meant… He hadn’t meant it like that, when he’d said… But he hadn’t done anything like that or asked David to do anything for him, he squeezed the back of his neck and said, he’d said… He’d said David was his boy. Not his good boy, because he wasn’t his dog then, but his boy. He’d said he would protect him next time and then they wouldn’t need to have problems like this, he’d handle it and all David had to do from now on was trust him, and not make any moves without John’s say-so, and they would be safe.

 

    The things he’d felt then… He would have been John’s dog, in that moment. He would have been anything to him. The feeling he’d been shot through with at the weight of John’s touch, the warmth and the steadiness of him. How he’d said ‘this is my responsibility now, David’, and he’d taken everything off David’s shoulders. Made him promise again not to touch Betty, not to touch anyone if he didn’t tell him it was time, but David had promised, nearly forehead to forehead with John, gaze holding steady between them, that hand on him, the calm of his voice… David had promised him everything. In his heart of hearts, the promise was already made. From the night they became full partners, the promise was there. John just never asked him to put it all in words or anything, until then, until he held onto him and made him promise not to make a move without him, and David said he promised, and he meant all of it.

 

    He settles into his space, and he pushes John out of his mind a little. He can’t push him out completely, of course-- John’s too important, John is the reason he’s safe. But he doesn’t need to focus on him, when he does… when he does _this_.

 

    He likes having something in his mouth. That’s true. Gum, usually, and not, not anything like this. Gum, or maybe sometimes a hard candy, but gum mostly, or beef jerky, except beef jerky and gum have very different effects on your breath. Or maybe just a toothpick, he’s rolled a toothpick around his mouth before, he just, he likes having something to play with or chew on or suck at, it’s soothing, it’s soothing and this is soothing, but…

 

    But this, this thing, it isn’t sexy to him. He crouches in his crate and he sucks at the end, and he closes his eyes so he doesn’t have to look at it or look at the couch where he’d watched John stroke himself, and it doesn’t, it’s not like anything, it’s not sex, it’s just… it’s just something to put in his mouth.

 

    Slowly, slowly, he stops thinking about things. He stops worrying, he stops fearing… He runs his tongue around the toy, doesn’t have to try and get much of the toy into his mouth, just enough to please him, it’s not for show. He doesn’t even ask whether John really did get off on watching or if it was only physical, if the toy was meant to be humiliating and it just happened accidentally or… He doesn’t know, he doesn’t care. It’s his chew toy and he’s John’s dog, and putting his mouth on it is soothing, and that’s all.

 

    When he hears the key in the lock, he shifts to curl up down on his cushion, lays his head down and closes his eyes and he listens to John’s footsteps.

 

    What would he do if someone other than John came in?

 

    Maybe it wouldn’t matter. If anyone else came here, when he was in the crate like this… maybe they wouldn’t… Maybe they’d see a naked man in a cage and they’d get the fuck out of the apartment, which is what David would do if he walked in on someone else’s freaky situation, saw a naked man in a cage.

 

    “Well, well, well…” John comes to a stop by the crate. Reaches down to touch the bars, David can hear the slight sound of it. John’s laugh, low but not mean, it sends a little thrill through him. “Again? What a good boy. Waiting for your man to come home and take care of you.”

 

    His heart leaps, or his stomach does, and he looks up at John, and sees him slightly bent over the crate, stroking two fingers along the toy. He can see his own saliva, not dripping from the end but there’s enough there to tell and John doesn’t miss a trick.

 

    “You miss me? Huh, boy? You bored without me?”

 

    David opens his mouth, but he doesn’t speak. He quivers, waiting for mockery that doesn’t come.

 

    “Come on.” John says, and he whistles. “Sit by me.”

 

    By his feet, he means, David knows that’s what he means. He goes and gets David’s collar, and sits on the couch, and waits for David to crawl to him. Buckles it into place when David kneels at his feet and presents his neck.

 

    John turns the TV on, once the collar’s on, and then he relaxes, working his hand through David’s hair. David lives for that. He won’t do it when David’s slicked his hair back that morning, tells him to lay off the hair gel. He told him once that he looked like a greased rat, like a rat, David had… he’d flinched, and he knows better than to flinch, but he was, it took him aback, it came out of nowhere and he flinched, so sue him, he was upset. It was a bad fucking day and he flinched at it, and it’s not as if he wasn’t getting worse than that every other day, that was back when they were under Felix, when they were first partners and John had started dressing in those sharp, tailored suits, a greased rat, it had upset him, they were partners, they were friends, it came out of nowhere and at first John laughed because he’d, he jumped a little, and he doesn’t know how his face looked, but…

 

    But back when they were first partners, things were different. John patted his cheek and told him maybe that was too harsh, told him he just wanted David looking his best, because they were partners now and all, he’d said ‘after all, we’re partners, and we both have to look right’, he’d said ‘I stepped up my game, David, I just want to help you do the same’, and David hadn’t known what to feel.

 

    Felix, though, he… Felix had something to say no matter what David did, and he’d laugh after like it was a joke, like every ugly thing was a joke. Felix was still in the picture and when David hadn’t done his hair slicked back like usual, he’d had a field day. He’d insinuated things, and it didn’t matter that the things he’d said didn’t even make sense, Felix hadn’t even known it was because John said it would look better, but none of that mattered, the things he’d said. How he said it made David look. Words he’d chosen like punches to the gut and the sneering question of what was under David’s hair, if it wasn’t a brain.

 

    He’d gone back to the hair gel then, but there’s really no point now. It’s not just Felix who’s out of the picture, David is out of the picture, only John sees David until the heat is off, so all he has to do is… he just has to make John happy, and John likes his hair like this. And it feels so good to be allowed to lay his head on John’s knee and have his hair scritched through, his scalp massaged at, it feels so good for this to not be weird, or at least, not sexy-weird, only… only he’s John’s dog and he’s been good and he isn’t even trying to get up on the furniture or anything.

 

    He sighs, eyes closing, relaxes until John stops.

 

    “You want a belly rub, boy?” He asks, and there’s… there’s a note to his voice like there’s a right answer David needs to give, or else.

 

    He lies down on his back at John’s feet, his hands tucked up at his chin, feels more exposed than usual. Usually he’s hunched over. John might touch him everywhere when he washes him, but he can’t see everything, it isn’t like this. He’s not, it isn’t, his exposed belly and his dick hanging there limp between his thighs, and his, he’s just… And John leans forward and spreads one hand flat over his abdomen. Warm. Strong. Keeping David pinned there, though not with force. And there’s that laugh, the one that’s not really cruel but David doesn’t quite know what it is, and he drags his hand up to mid-chest and then down, down to David’s belly, past his navel. He scratches gently there, scratches through the dark trail of hair without following it lower, and then he rubs big, wide circles over David’s chest and belly.

 

    David closes his eyes, trembling. He doesn’t know what he’s waiting for, he doesn’t. Sometimes John’s hand stops, thumps gently at his ribcage a moment, scratches gently through his chest hair like he had done, down, like before when he, he stops to scratch at his chest and then his thumb brushes over a nipple but that’s just part of a wider than usual circle, that’s just, he’s only petting him like he’s a dog, so it’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine.

 

    It’s _fine_.

 

    He knows what Felix would say, if he saw him like this. What he’d say about him and John both. But that’s why he killed him when he did, he knew he would only say things, he knew he would only hurt him, again, and again, until he got sick and tired of watching him jump and he pulled the trigger for real, he’d known that, he’d told his wife as much, and she…

 

    If she could see him now… would she still tell him he had a wife who loved him? Or would she stay with her mother for good? Or would she try to rat them out so that she wouldn’t have to deal with him?

 

    He knows what everyone would say, but no one else is going to see him like this, John keeps him safe now, promised he would, held tight to the back of his neck and told him all he had to do was everything John told him and he could live. He’d see his girl again if he followed all John’s orders until the heat was off, he just had to be as obedient as a well-trained dog and John would keep him safe because they were partners, and this other shit, it didn’t matter, all that mattered was he was John’s partner and he wanted to do the right thing, he wanted to do the right thing for John, didn’t he want to do the right thing? Didn’t he want to keep his partner safe, keep them both safe? And John couldn’t do that alone, David had to do his part, and he’d been ready to do anything to keep John safe, hadn’t John seen that? Hadn’t he seen, since the night they became partners?

 

    All he has to do is be good until it’s safe.

 

    “Oh, is he gonna come out to play every time we do this?” John asks, that laugh again, and his hand brushes against David, half hard, and he wasn’t, he wasn’t thinking about it like that, he didn’t mean to react, but it’s a physical thing, it’s not… John has to know it’s not like that, he couldn’t help it.

 

    He whines, the back of his throat as he bites the sound back, as he squeezes his eyes shut tighter still. John’s hand slides up his belly, up to his chest again, keeping him in place.

 

    “That’s fine, boy. Oh, that’s fine, you trying to be good, I can see that. You’re trying so hard to be a good boy for me, you just… can’t help it, can you?”

 

    He taps a finger against David’s chest. Once, twice, three times. The weight of his consideration hangs heavy like the sword of Damocles, John’s decision the thread that could spare him, or snap and end him. And then his hand slides back down.

 

    It stops short but David’s harder now, he can’t help it, now the thought is there, now he’s been thrown open to that little, that little moment, that slightest bit of arousal, he can’t stop it from building. John doesn’t touch him, but now it won’t go down, it could have gone down if John hadn’t called attention to it, it would have faded once his body realized what his brain knew, that this wasn’t sex, this wasn’t about sex, this was, it wasn’t…

 

    “If you want a treat…” John straightens up, his hand leaving David, leaving him suddenly cold, but no less hard. “You better sit up and beg for it. You better be ready to do some real good tricks.”

 

    The heat floods his face, so fast and so strong it seems impossible there should still be so much blood pumping down to his cock. He gets up slowly, on his knees, and doesn’t look at John.

 

    “David…” John says, wants him to beg, then, even if David doesn’t want this, why would he want this? He doesn’t, of course he doesn’t, he’s not sick, he’s not… he isn’t…

 

    He paws gently at John’s knee anyway, whines for him. He doesn’t want to be touched like that, he just wants to be… He just wants John to pet his hair again, that’s all, he could beg for that and John would… John doesn’t want to jack him off, anyway, he just wants to make him beg because it’s, that’s just the game and then he’ll give him something else, what he really needs, not… He wouldn’t do that. He only touches him to give him a bath, and that’s different. He’s a dog, and it’s… John wouldn’t.

 

    “What’s a good dog name?” He asks, and David knows he’s not supposed to answer now. Maybe another time, John might ask human David the same question. “I mean… nobody calls a dog ‘David’, do they? Shouldn’t I name you? Something special for when we do this? Then I could get it engraved on your tags… wouldn’t you like that?”

 

    The shock of the idea hits him first. There’s a moment where he rebels. John can’t take away his _name_ , he can’t…

 

    But then, wouldn’t that help? It wouldn’t be human David and dog David, it would just be David and… whatever John wants to call him. It would be so much easier to shed human David if he had a special pet name, haha, a pet name. And John calls it something special and that’s all he wants, to be special. He pushes his face against John’s knee and then looks up at him, eyes wide.

 

    “Yeah?” John grips his face, turning him this way and that, chuckling at him. “What kind of dog are you, David? Guard dog? Attack dog? Or a yappy little mutt? Or are you just a bitch in heat?”

 

    He flinches, John laughs.

 

    “No? Not with that dick out, huh? You’re sure desperate for something. Better not let me catch you humping the couch. Hm…”

 

    He laughs again, as David casts his eyes down, face still hot, dick jerking, and it’s not that he’s interested in humping the couch and it’s not that he… fuck, it’s not like… it’s not like he ever wants to hear John say, not again, he didn’t the first time, shit, ‘bitch in heat’, that’s not… that’s not what he is. A guard dog, or an attack dog, let him be either of those. Let him take care of things when John tells him to, he’ll be so good, but he’s not, he’s not…

 

    “Bet you’d go to town on that toy of yours if I smeared a little peanut butter on it.” John says, and his voice is low and silky, his hand slides away from David’s chin and he laughs at the way he ducks his head, shoulders hunching. “Bet you’d make a real mess if I let you. Is that right, boy?”

 

    David whines, and John gets a hand back in his hair, gripping tight to force him back up into eye contact.

 

    “Yappy little mutt it is. Rex? No… no. Spike? _Fido_?” He asks, and there’s real amusement at that one, at the way David flinches a little. Rex or Spike he could handle, Fido… Fido’s a stupid dog name, one a kid comes up with, a Fido isn’t… that’s not what he wants to be. A Fido isn’t reliable, isn’t dangerous, isn’t the kind of dog you trust with a real job. You let your kids play with a Fido, it’s an ugly, stupid fucking name, it’s not… and John thinks it’s funny, what if he thinks this is a joke? What if he doesn’t… what if it’s not even special? Not for David at all, just to humiliate him?

 

    David ducks his head again when John releases him, but at the snap of his fingers he looks up again, is rewarded with a gentle knuckle under his jaw, a thumb stroking his chin.

 

    “Spot?”

 

    David shrugs a little, glances away.

 

    John slides two fingers into his mouth, and that gets his attention. His focus snaps right back to David’s face, but all David does is look at him.

 

    “Why don’t you show me how sweet you are? Show me what kind of a good boy I have on my hands here. You like to keep that mouth busy, don’t you, boy?”

 

    David swallows hard, and licks at the fingers in his mouth, eyes falling closed. This isn’t so different from… Well, it’s not like… It’s, it’s better than the ‘chew toy’, isn’t it? It’s not different from licking his hand because he’s a good dog who loves him, not very different, it’s not like sucking on even a fake cock, which, it wasn’t like that but it would look like that, and this is… Maybe it’s embarrassing, but it’s embarrassing the way sucking your thumb’s embarrassing, it’s not sexual. It’s like that, it’s soothing, it’s…

 

    He’s hard but that’s not connected, he was already hard, and it’ll go down, it has to go down if neither of them does anything about it.

 

    He whines and sucks and thrills to the snatches of murmured praise, grips the edge of the couch and just sucks, ignores the rest of his body as he can, ignores his body so it will just stop and let him have this, John calling him good for doing this, David doesn’t understand it but he needs it, needs the hand in his hair and the hand in his mouth and the promise that he’s doing what he’s supposed to do to make John happy. All too soon, John takes his fingers away, pushes David back to sit on his heels.

 

    “Well look at you.” He tsks, shaking his head, and David just looks up at him, eyes wide, head slow. “You really are a bitch in heat, dripping like that. Look at the mess you made…”

 

    Precome, shining on the head of his cock, dripping down it now, but the mess, the mess John means, he means the little puddle of it on the toe of his shoe, one of his good shoes, his dress shoes, wherever he went today it was in dress shoes, and they used to be so clean, and David didn’t mean, of course he didn’t mean, and how he could be so hard, but…

 

    “Well?” John asks, expectant, except David can’t apologize, dogs don’t talk. And then, before he can do anything at all, John’s gripping his hair again, forcing him down until his nose is in it. “Clean it up, _Spot_. Because if I have to clean up after you, I’m not going to be very happy…”

 

    David is shaking. John doesn’t let up his grip, isn’t letting him to go get a damp cloth or the shoe polish kit from the closet or anything, all he can do, all he can do, he doesn’t have a choice. He has to lick it, because John won’t let him up until he does, because he wants to be good, he has to be good.

 

    He just… he just can’t think about it, that’s all. He drags his tongue over the smooth leather, laps up the mess, he does exactly what John wants until it’s all gone and even after, until John pulls him up again, and John’s hard, too, not that David was looking, only that it’s at eye level for just a moment.

 

    “Fetch me a kitchen towel.” John orders, and when David starts to get to his feet, he shakes his head. “Fetch, boy.”

 

    He goes on his hands and knees, brings it in his mouth when he comes back, and he’s still rock hard, but maybe John will wait and let him mop up the drips of precome he’d trailed here and there in the kitchen. Mostly in the kitchen, he thinks. Maybe John will let him clean that up when he’s human David.

 

    “Lie down. On your back.”

 

    David does, has to look away. The obscene picture he must make, cock flush against his belly, red and leaking. John throws the towel down on him and gets a hand around his cock and David whimpers but he doesn’t, he doesn’t make him stop, he could try to make him stop but he can’t, he… He shouldn’t _have_ to, not if John wants to do this. If John wants to, then it’s not wrong. It has to be okay if John does it, John wouldn’t… not if this wasn’t allowed, if he couldn’t… So then David is allowed to enjoy it, isn’t he? Allowed to enjoy a hand that isn’t his wrapped around him, sliding slick with his precome, strong and confident, allowed to enjoy it if he doesn’t look, except it doesn’t matter, looking, he couldn’t mistake John’s hand for anyone else’s, it’s touched him everywhere even if it’s never done this, he couldn’t mistake John’s hand for anyone else’s and definitely not a woman’s, but it’s okay because John wouldn’t do this to him if he wasn’t allowed to enjoy it, John wouldn’t do this if it wasn’t okay, John’s never done this but he wouldn’t start now if this wasn’t allowed.

 

    It doesn’t take long. He braces himself for the teasing when it’s over so fast, but it doesn’t come.

 

    “Tub.” John commands, and that’s it. David crawls to the tub. And John is hard, he can’t help noticing, there’s a definite bulge in his trousers as he dumps the towel in the laundry hamper and cleans David up, but he never makes him do anything, maybe doesn’t want him to.

 

    “Can you eat dinner at the table like a person?” John asks him, as he’s toweling him dry after, a clean towel, not the towel he’d… not the kitchen towel, because that would be ridiculous anyway, except he thought it for some reason, doesn’t know why he thought John might grab that towel back out of the laundry when he just got him clean, for fuck’s sake.

 

    “You want me to?” David asks, hoarse.

 

    “Yeah. Thought I’d heat up leftovers, that okay with you?”

 

    John doesn’t normally _ask_. Especially not when, he doesn’t ask his dog for permission for anything, and David doesn’t want to stop being his dog, but he would rather eat with a fork, sitting in a chair. Doesn’t mind eating a little out of a bowl on the floor or John’s hand, but not for dinner, it’s always kind of hard and messy and John just got him clean and…

 

    “Yeah.” He nods. “Yeah, great. Great. Whatever you want. Do… do you want me to sleep, um… anywhere in particular tonight?”

 

    “Foot of the bed’s fine. Put on some pajamas-- but leave the collar. You’re still mine, David. And you can walk around and talk and get dressed, but you’ll never stop being mine. That right?”

 

    “That’s right. Since-- since we became partners.”

 

    John smiles. It’s slow and it’s calculating and warm all at once. “Is that right?”

 

    He just nods again.

 

    “Go get your pajamas on, David. Sit down at the table. I promised you I’d take care of you, didn’t I?”

 

    “Yes, John. Yes, John.”

 

    He doesn’t know how to feel, or how he’s supposed to feel, or what he even is. Not a dog and not a human, but something in between. Still John’s. And John is taking care of him. Does the rest really matter?


End file.
